Self-expression under Lock-down

My preferred locations under normal circumstances are remote, sparsely populated where I can be alone, calm, and able to experience the moment rather than just record it. In such situations the aspect of the scene which triggers my making an image are, 20% by Forms (as in Formalism), 40% by perceiving anthropomorphic Relationships (between elements in the scene and or with the viewer) and 10% are driven by a Recognition of another photographer’s work.

The corona virus lock-down stopped my field trip to the Shetland Island and limited my photographic range to the city of Edinburgh. However, I have been able to find remote, unpopulated, and quiet locations within the city, such as business areas, brown–field sites and, now empty, tourist locations. But how, if at all, has this changed the images I produce? Are my images still being triggered by the same characteristics?

The above, empty carpark image was triggered by the Forms perceived in all those rectangles. But later I also perceived the sense of threat coming from the surrounding, Triffid like trees being held back by the hedge. The Forms, the flat lighting and the simplicity give a sense of calm which attracted me at the time, it was only later, during image review, that I noticed any Relationship between the viewer and the implied threat from the trees.

This is very much a Recognition image, inspired by Lewis Baltz. Like the carpark it was the simplicity and strength of the Forms that I first noticed. Even after later review this image remains purely a Form image with no Relationship narratives being apparent to me.

Here a Recognition of Lewis Baltz and R Adams’, New Topographic style of image was the trigger. However, there is also a strong Relationship aspect coming from the family of self-isolating trolleys, corralled and well away from everything else.

Here is another image that was triggered by Form, the three strong bands of colour going across the scene.

However, Relationship tropes such as exclusion & power/ subordination are still strong drivers, as the viewer is being excluded from whatever activity is going on beyond the fence. Note the tyre tracks veering away from the fence as if someone else was also discouraged by its presence.

This is an example of Isolation emphasised by the geometry (Form) of the path. That all the seats are empty, facing the same way, towards the viewer, and not towards each other, seemed an appropriate metaphor for a time of self-isolation. With the phone mast behind as a reference to the most practical way to avoid the current effects of isolation. The mast, being behind the seats, again appears to isolate anyone using them from potential communication.

The next two images are about the strange things people sometimes do to their own environment.

The above is an obviously deliberate arrangement of plants but in the middle of a green area that was formerly a football pitch. Why? Who decided to arrange this tree and grasses in such a tight formation in the middle of this open, recreational area?

Above, this uncollected, largely dog waste has become almost monumental when set against the bush and centrally placed. Whereas the first of these images indicates someone who cares about the location, whether or not others agree with what they have done, the second image demonstrates how little the dog walkers and others respect or appreciate their area.

Charlotte Square in Edinburgh is the regular location for the Book Festival and looks here as if the grass has still not recovered from last year’s festival. Additionally, the building behind is under repair. The statue seems to be unaware and ignoring the chaos around, much like those who organize and benefit from the tourism that damages the very thing that attracts people to Edinburgh. It feels like a suitable metaphor for both lock down and my other concerns.

I had never seen the Carlton Hill monument without people before making this image. With most of the grass gone, trampled by tourists, it is another metaphor for lock down.

Conclusions

So how has lock down changed my photography?

My perception of Relationships between image elements and or the viewer is the trigger of 40% of images when taken at my favourite, remote locations. However, in the city, Relationships are never more than a secondary image trigger with Form being the most common, followed by Recognition. I believe this is because, in the city, however quiet it appears, I cannot become sufficiently Mindful to fully engage with the subject matter and so perceive potential Relationships. This is because I can never feel invisible, I am always aware that people are nearby and might disturb me. Secondly, I am travelling on my bike and must always be conscious of where I have left it. Hence, I cannot move around free of other concerns. Finally, again because of the bike, I do not carry the tripod that normally slows down my processes and thinking, allowing me to become fully absorbed in the moment.

However, I do enjoy the emptiness and almost post-apocalyptic atmosphere that I can find around the city today. It brings me as close as possible to my teenage imaginings of what it would be like to be the last person on earth. At that age such a prospect was actually attractive, but not any longer.

The post Self-expression under Lock-down appeared first on Fotobuddies.

I found a derelict cottage on the island of Scalpay and, like many other photographers who travel to the Outer Hebrides, I was drawn to make images of it – but why?

Of course, there are multiple reasons, from pure documentation of the scene through to voyeuristic attempts to spy into someone else’s former life. Personally, I am not a documentary photographer. I am not interested in reporting or politicising the scenes I photograph. My interests lie in evoking stories, capturing the moods and emotions I feel when I am making the image. This places me more towards the voyeuristic and I do certainly feel a frisson of excitement whenever I am privileged to see into such buildings and start to imagine its former occupants. However, that excitement only exists for the duration of my time at the location and the resulting images have little, long term, interest for me.

Considering 3 more images taken of this Scalpay cottage I now realise I can have several different and unconnected motivations for making images at a single time and place.

This first image, below, is of the “voyeuristic” kind. I think I can safely presume others have been into this room since the original owners or tenants departed. I can’t imagine the residents would have left drawers open or a shoe on top of the cupboard. However, the placement of the chair looks as if its former occupant might have just got up and left the room. At the time of making it is this kind of story (albeit, far-fetched) that interests me most. Where have they gone? Did they know they would not return?

This second image is entirely different. It is not about the people who lived there. This photograph is about the loneliness and abandonment of the cottage itself, as if the cottage was sentient and able to look into the distance, to wish for company and a better life.

The third image could be read as a story of decay. Yet, at the time, I saw this as a graphical image of shapes and colours. Is wasn’t about the decay as such but the arrangement of squares and rectangles and blues and reds. I was particularly drawn to the shapes of the tattered curtains echoing the rust of the corrugated steel sheets. It is an image of design, not narrative. Design and form have long been key attractants for my photographic imagination.

So, in the ten minutes I was at this location, I managed to take 4 images, each of which has come from a different motivation and or emotional connection to the subject. I was aware, at the time, of why I took each image but not of the differences in why each was made.

Perhaps, if I was the kind of photographer who knows exactly why they want to photograph at a location, maybe has a plan of what they want to achieve, or even can pre-visualise the final images, I might be more consistent. However, I am not. I arrive at a scene and then I respond to the scene, the conditions and my mood. Consequently, the resulting images are more about me than the subject. I make (landscape) photographs to record my own responses to the time and place. The landscape itself is merely a very good catalyst for my imagination and emotions.

The post Why make a (landscape) photograph? appeared first on Fotobuddies.

I visited Skaw, Unst on 3 separate days in 2018. This paper looks at the different compositions taken across the 3 days looking at why I have classified them as Successful or Unsuccessful. It is a technique for trying to try and understand why I become motivated to press the shutter.

Starting with my definition of what makes a “successful” image. It is one that:

• Excited me at the moment of taking.
• Still excites me weeks, months later.
• Is an image where I believe I have perceived something unique, that I am seeing or interpreting the scene in ways no-one else has done before.

All the images, except one, were taken on the first 2 days. Day 3 was spent attempting to improve on previously tried compositions. However, probably due to a lack of careful and critical review of the results from day’s 1 and 2, the third day did not improve upon any of the earlier compositions. The same mistakes were made!

Here are a couple of “successful” images from days 1 and 2.

The one image from day 3 that was different and “successful” came from a new location, previously unseen. This is it.

Over the 3 days, 62 different scenes were photographed. I had removed all bracketed and the almost identical, repeat compositions from the selection. Then classifying these 62 images against my “successful” criteria gave the following results:

• Successful = 21
• Unsuccessful = 41

One thing to note it that the hit rate for successful images versus rejects on this field trip appears to be significantly higher than on earlier field trips. Previously, I would have expected around 10% success rate whereas here it is 34%. Perhaps I am becoming more unconsciously discerning about my choices of location, my selection of subjects and of compositions.

The 41 rejects consisted of the following:

• Poor Composition – 30
• Technical issues – 3
• Too Documentary – 5
• Too similar to others – 3

The technical issues were all due to insufficient depth of field for that particular composition. Focus stacking should have been employed but I failed to check the image quality at the time. I was too impulsive, too keen to move on to the next scene!

The Compositional issues were:

• Composition too busy, too many objects included, resulting in a messy image.
• A lack of visual interest in the composition – it’s just dull, certainly not spectacular, it is little more than a record.
• Subject too big in the frame. This loses the sense of space, isolation, and calm that (I now know) I want to achieve.
• The subject leaves the frame on one side (see below). This is similar to the above issue of lacking space, isolation, and calm. This is less of a problem when the “Trigger” for the image has been Design, the key content is “Shapes”, or the overall effect is 2-dimensional.

This image is neither one nor the other. It lacks both content and compositional interest, so it was rejected.

• Lack of separation or insufficient intrusion of subject across background boundaries. For example, when the roof line of an object is in line with the background hills or does not cross over the horizon sufficiently. These failures result from poor checking of the viewfinder or review of the image at the taking. It is just carelessness.

For example, the image above. This could have been a good image if only I had paid attention to the roof line of the hut and its relationship to the distant hills. A lower viewpoint or a slightly closer position would have corrected this.

Often, I take multiple different versions of each scene. Am I taking insufficient care when re-composing images?

None of the unsuccessful images had been triggered by my “Intuition”. My intuition is the implicit knowledge that a composition will work without my understanding, at the time, why it should do so. The majority of unsuccessful images were triggered by my “Belief” that an interesting composition was possible but, obviously, I failed to follow through in finding either the narrative or the design content I was expecting.

Design was a trigger for 13 images, but these all failed to live up to expectations.

Conclusions

I know I am an impulsive photographer. My primary reason for making an image is to capture my immediate emotional reactions to the time and the place. However, my emotional, expressive self is far better at making “successful” images than my conscious self! Impulsiveness means I quickly perceive a composition that interests me, but then fail to carry through on the technical (focus, depth of field, etc.) or to be sufficiently rigorous with on-location review and correction of the resulting compositions. When I do spend time, on-location, analysing the image, I can then find the changed photograph becomes deadened and missing my initial feelings of emotional connection. Perhaps this is because my conscious, analytical self has taken over from my emotional self.

I also have a short “excitement” span. Skaw is a particularly large location with many subjects to capture. That is why I felt inspired for a full 2 days in 2018. Yet, by the third day I was struggling to find further images. Another visit to the same location in 2019 was particularly disappointing and no new images were found, nor old ones improved upon. I believe my conscious knowledge and prejudices built up over the previous 3 visits had blinded me to perceiving further, new possible subjects and compositions. I understand this is contrary to many other photographers who find they become more creative, seeing greater possibilities the more often the visit and the longer they stay in one place.

The post Analysis of all images taken at Skaw, Unst appeared first on Fotobuddies.

Here are examples:

Above the tall, powerful, new, turbines with their science fiction appearance seem to be marching across the high ground of the landscape. In contrast the old, worn fences look weak, low down in the scene and unable to stop the “progress”. This effect is enhanced as the turbines appear to be looking into the distance and to be unaware of the fences.

In the next image the turbines, whilst a similar size in the frame to those in the above image, do not appear dominant relative, this time, to the viewer. They are at a distance, looking at the viewer, almost hiding behind the shed, as if in a stand-off with, but not threatening the viewer. Somehow the viewer seems to be in control of the scene.

Both images are examples of a Power/Subordinate relationship within the image but demonstrate how changes in the composition can result in opposing relationships and narratives.

In narrative and relationship terms this image is a combination of the two above. The stone cross is looking powerful and, perhaps defiant in the face of the viewer. The ring of the Celtic cross appears to form the hands-on hips stance of a confident leader confronting the viewer. By contrast the power-pole in the background is timid, hiding behind the hill, not wanting to be involved. Its construction, being almost an inverse of the stone cross, lacks the confident stance. The third pole, on the left, is like a bystander present (to balance the composition) but not involved in the story.

This image was created because I saw the pleasing triangular shape formed by the rock and the 4 posts. However, once seen, I started to perceive a power/subordinate relationship between the confrontational looking poles and the small rock that seems to be shrinking into the ground. The cut-outs near the tops of the front two poles adds to the impression that these are in some way human. This image only works the way I describe because there is little sense of depth and the rock looks to be almost on the same plane as the posts.

Here the solid, concrete, WWII lookout post is high and looking out to sea, oblivious of the viewer. It is dominant and immovable. In contrast the viewer is low down looking up towards the lookout. Even although the lookout is not acknowledging the viewer’s presence this particular viewer feels the weaker but not necessarily threatened.

Here are 2 further examples:

Conclusions

This is a very anthropomorphic way to view images, but it comes very naturally and unbidden to me. The exercise has demonstrated how viewpoint, position in the frame, size, construction materials and the juxtapositions of elements and viewers can result in very different perceptions and meanings in an image.

The post What is Power/Subordination in images? appeared first on Fotobuddies.

I have noticed that some of my images, whilst superficially very similar, have quite different origins for their compositions. For example, these images, were both taken at Skaw on Unst on the same day:

The next diagrammatic version explains what I perceived more clearly.

The following image was conceived quite differently to either of the ones discussed above.

I saw this as a pleasing arrangement and alignment of the lines that connected the foundations to the derelict shed and the horizon. It is a consciously composed image where the reality of independent elements has been challenged by moving the camera until the separate components were forced to connect.

Here are further examples, from different locations, where I had an initial, short, almost two-dimensional perception of the scene that was then used to construct a final image from my memory of it:

Images from the same locations as those above but that were more “traditionally” seen and composed follow:

By “traditionally” composed I mean that I saw what looked like a pleasing arrangement of elements and moved around to achieve the final composition. There was no instant visualisation and usually little “potential narrative” to be developed.

“Potential narratives” as a source of composition will be discussed in a later blog.

Conclusion

The above demonstrates that even at a single location, on the same day, my motivations for making individual images can vary significantly. There are at least 4 different sources of inspiration from my day at Skaw on Unst!

The post Same location, similar content but very different origins appeared first on Fotobuddies.

This title describes a situation where my initial impressions of a scene result (usually) in anthropomorphic narratives being applied to inanimate objects and their relationships within a scene. I then compose the image to emphasise the narratives I have seen. I emphasise these are almost instantaneous visions of relationships and potential narratives. These are compositions that I used to consider wholly intuitive until I started this research and began to unravel my motivations image by image.

In this image I had perceived a relationship between the power pole and the children’s slide. The pole appears powerful, upright and, with a high viewpoint, it appears attentive, as if scanning for threats.

The pole’s juxtaposition, relative to the slide (representing a child) made this scene appear to be of a metaphorical parent and child. The parent protective and observant whilst the child slide is bright, curved (stress-free) and enjoying itself.

This next image, taken at the same time as the Slide and Pole above, is all about the violence inflicted upon the hedge.

It was photographed head on, to give the impression of our facing a soldiers’ advance, as on a WW1 battlefield. The soldiers in the foreground have been mown down whilst the tall, strong trees behind (generals perhaps?) are untouched and focused above and beyond the ranks towards a higher purpose.

This is another image seen and very quickly taken because I knew (intuitively?) that there was a story here, in this composition. It was part of my BA (hons) final degree exhibition in 2011.

The painting is of an early, Lord Wraxall, creator of the 600 acre, Tyntesfield House Estate, near Bristol. His wealth and the building of the estate was funded by the import and sales of guano from South America. The house and estate are now owned by the National Trust.

My narrative for this image is founded upon Tyntesfield House no longer being the private home of a wealthy aristocratic family but having been turned, by the National Trust, into a zoo of objects for the general public to gaze upon. Instead of Lord Wraxall’s image being displayed prominently, in a way he might consider appropriate to his standing, it is behind a cord with his face is covered. Not perhaps a dignified situation for the former owner of the house. His image has been reduced to that of just another stately home object with its meaning removed for all except those few who take a direct interest in the history. For me this is an image about mortality, the triviality of our existences, whoever we are, and the world moving on regardless.

Another image where the composition was quickly formulated after perceiving some key factors about the location.

First, the rock colours and the conical piles reminded me of treasure. This idea was reinforced by the aggressive looking bulldozer, not looking at us, but appearing attentive, cowering behind its own little gravel pile. Is it protecting the treasure? The final elements that formulated the narrative were the tracks appearing from the bottom left. A few have ventured passed the “teeth” of the bulldozer but more have turned around, not risking annoying the guard.

Conclusions

These are fanciful, anthropomorphic narratives that work for me. I am explaining them here as part of my research, but I have learned that I should not normally provide viewers with such stories as this limits their own creation of narratives. Additionally, if the viewer rejects my interpretation, they may not go on to develop their own.

The post Perceiving potential Narratives as a source of composition appeared first on Fotobuddies.

This scene, on Shetland, made me think of a person looking out to sea, head bowed, lonely and isolated, whose world is falling apart. That was my feeling, and this is my metaphor for it.

For the next image I was immediately struck by the flimsiness of the fence at the same time as it was appearing to interfere with my “right to roam”. Hence this straight on, confrontational composition that emphasises the emptiness beyond.

Finally, this image, taken in the Lammermuir hills where I was struck by the old, quite weak fence in the foreground being ignored by, and incapable of stopping, the army of turbines as they march across the hillside.

I will end with another quote from Minor White:

“One should photograph things not only for what they are but also for what else they are.”

It is the capability to do this that excites me about photography. It means my images will often be misunderstood or dismissed but what does that matter? I know what it means.

The post “I had a feeling and here is my metaphor of that feeling” appeared first on Fotobuddies.

I have admired the landscape photography of Ansel Adams for about 30 years. However, it has never excited me. His photography is always technically superb, but I have rarely found his landscapes images stirring me emotionally. This may sound heretical but, for me, Adam’s images are little more than stunning records of sublime landscapes. The subject is beautiful, but the photograph has little to add to it. What am I missing? Please note that I am particularly discussing Adam’s large vista landscape photographs and not his intimate floral, tree or architectural images which I do find engaging both artistically and emotionally.

Ansel Adams – El Capitan

Perhaps, like the landscape painters of the Hudson River School who invented, overly dramatized scenes, such as below, Adam’s photographs are somehow unbelievable. Adams maybe making photographs, but their reality feels questionable.

Thomas Cole – Scenes from the Last of the Mohicans

In part I believe this lack of credibility is due to Adam’s images not having any signs of human presence. Without such evidence, human constructs or traces, such scenes might as well be invented. Personally, I need to see that other humans have been to a location to believe in it. I am more interested in, and find it easier to engage with, a landscape when there is evidence that humans have interacted with the location. A pristine, “natural landscape” was in Adam’s time and is still a rare if not impossible location.

Thomas Cole’s painting does include humans. But it is a painting and therefore cannot be a wholly accurate portrayal of reality. For photographs, there is a long-held misconception that they do accurately record reality, but this has never been true. Since as long ago as the 1840’s photographs have been manipulated and, anyway, every photograph is inherently the photographer’s edit of the world and time, not a whole reality.

Conversely, from the first time I became aware of the New Topographic photographers, especially Robert Adams, and Lewis Baltz, I was excited and felt emotionally connected with their rendering of banal subjects as something worthy of being appreciated and investigated. Somehow, their ability to depict the mundane as (albeit accidentally) beautiful resonates with me. I am interested in understanding what it is they are trying to say about a scene. When I feel they have created beauty out of the banal then I am drawn into the image to try and understand why and to create my own meanings.

However, going back to my original argument, at a recent conference on landscape photography I saw 2 very successful and highly considered landscape photographers showing and discussing their work. They were Charlie Waite and Colin Prior. This was interesting because, like with Ansel Adams, I admire the craft of these photographers, but I often fail to be engaged by their images. Again, what am I missing?

Charlie Waite showed the following image: Sossusvlei, Namibia, Africa

My immediate reaction was that the sky was too visually noisy, and this conflicted strongly with the calm, soft beauty of the sand dunes. The two elements seem to be fighting with one another and this had a negative effect on me. Charlie Waite said that his sister had surprised him when she described the sky as “too chaotic”. So, I am not alone! Was Charlie Waite only aware of the drama in the scene and overlooking the emotional conflict?

Colin Prior, Liathach and Beinn Eighe

The above image by Colin Prior captures a sublime, dawn scene in difficult winter conditions that took real effort and skills to make. It is beautiful but, after a few seconds of viewing, I am left wondering what it is trying to say. There does not, for me, appear to be any meaning, message or alternative way of seeing the world being proposed by such an image. Perhaps my wish for images to convey more than just (accepted) beauty is limiting my appreciation.

Both these photographers, and their success, seems to be predicated upon being able to access and record moments and locations in dramatic ways that most of their viewers could not hope to emulate. Are they selling a dream, an overly romantic view of the world, that I consider to be an unachievable fiction, for most people, most of the time. Are they selling their visions of heaven?

On the few occasions when I have been in such dramatic places and experienced the light, the solitude, the moment then I have felt spiritually uplifted. Note, I am not a spiritual person, so these occasions are rare. However, a photograph of such a time (as shown below) will rekindle those emotions within me but someone else’s images of the same or similar places and moments will still leave me cold. For this image I have a personal connection and knowledge that I cannot achieve by looking at others’ photographs.

Krafla, Iceland

Usually, and perhaps contrarily, when I am in such moments, I will take a single picture then put the camera away in order to fully concentrate on the moment, the experience. For me, enjoying the experience itself is far more important than the recording of it which can never be more than a trigger for an inadequate memory.

The post Ansel Adams leaves me cold! appeared first on Fotobuddies.